


To I Hola

by ifrainfalls



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1700s, Drinking, Fluff, Gen, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Musical References, Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, harpsichord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 09:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17805800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifrainfalls/pseuds/ifrainfalls
Summary: (In the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth) Belarus plays the harpsichord, Poland sings along.





	To I Hola

Natalya labored at the harpsichord with some difficulty.  She had new sheet music brought in from abroad, and the fingering had proven to match her current abilities.  So here she sat, hitting a wrong key every few measures and cursing softly. Eventually, she noticed the sound of scuffling from the kitchen and ceased playing.

“Fełek, quit sneaking about like a mouse!” she called, laughter in her tone of voice.  There was more scuffling before Feliks emerged with a half eaten apple and made a “shh” gesture at her.  She snickered, just barely keeping a calm face, “Don’t look at me like that. Toris will see and scold you until you regret it.”

In response, Feliks just took another bite of the apple.  “Toris can’t scold me if he doesn’t find out. He’s not getting home until late today, had to go into Kraków.”  They lived a little out of the center of the city, in one of the king’s houses. It was better for Toris’s health to be away from the city center, as bad as his nerves got at times, and Natalya appreciated the quiet.

In response, Natalya winked and turned back to the harpsichord, giving up on the new music and playing an old favorite of her’s.  She had assumed that he had gone back to whatever he was doing when she heard some frankly awful singing coming from the other room.  She sighed.

“Fełek, I know you can do better than that!” she struck up another song on the harpsichord.  The singing got louder and admittedly less awful as he moved into the front room with her, clapping along to some unknown beat in the Lully piece.  As soon as the piece was finished, she turned to a more joyful song, one she knew he would knew. Feliks grinned and sat down on the bench next to her.

“The guests are coming, coming/ Past my orchard/ They won't drop by my place/ Because I have no dowry!” they sang, shoulders brushing on the tiny bench.  Feliks tapped his foot along to a much more familiar beat. “To i hola hola la!”

“Natalka, buying you this harpsichord is probably the best purchase I’ve ever made,” he wiped his eyes with his sleeve as if that would take the shine out of them.  “You play it like someone will take it away from you.”

She smiled coyly at him, tapping idly at the keys.  “Don’t say you’ll take it away from me, Fełek.”

“Never, Natalka,” he patted her on the back with a strong hand, pulling her closer.  “You know what this occasion needs?”

“Vodka?” she grinned back at him, finally.

He laughed and replied, “Always.”

\--

“I’m home,” Toris called into the house, taking his shoes off.  Strangely enough, there wasn’t a reply. What was going on? Poland was nearly always at the door to greet him, even if it was late.  Toris hurried into the house, leaving his jacket in the front hall. “Fełek? Natalka?”

As he approached the sitting room near the kitchen, he breathed a sigh of relief hearing laughter.  “You frightened me,” he reproached as he entered the room. It looked like a servant had started a fire at some point, thankfully, and now they were both splayed out on the rug next to it, giggling.

“Toris!  Toris!” Feliks raised a glass with a wavering hand at him.  “Come drink with us, Toris!” Natalya giggled at him.

Toris sighed yet again, practically melting into his favorite chair.  It had been a long day for him, dealing with politics of his own regions.  “How long have you two been drinking?” he asked.

“Since.  Since mid-afternoon,” Natalya answered, trying to keep a straight face.  Feliks wasn’t even trying, instead opting to make faces at Natalya while she spoke.  She snorted and tried to make him face away while she was talking.

“We should do another toast,” Feliks said as soon as Natalya had successfully gotten him to turn away.  “To Toris’s health.”

Natalya slowly tipped the bottle, pouring three shots and only spilling some of it.  “Come on,” Toris sighed. “I don’t need to drink now, we have business tomorrow.”

Feliks only pressed the shot glass into Toris’s hand before taking his own.  “He’s right! Give him vodka!” Natalya cheered and the two of them drank, staring meaningfully at Toris until he gave in and drank too.  Several more shots later, he was starting to blush and had joined them on the rug, telling them a story about a noble he had known 30 years ago.

“To those who cannot drink!” cheered Feliks, and they drank.

“We are not camels, so we must drink!” cheered Feliks, and they drank.

“To… to whatever!” Feliks cheered, and spilled vodka on his shirt, cursing.  Toris had already fallen asleep on the rug and it looked like Natalya was heading that way soon.  “Natalka, help me get him to bed,” Feliks muttered, standing up only by virtue of leaning on the furniture.  He felt rather sick.

With some struggle, they both stood and started half-carrying half-dragging Toris to bed, leaning against the walls and occasionally tripping.  Surely to anybody who might have been watching, it would have been hilarious.

“ _ Karolinka went to Gogolin _ ,” Natalya sung softly, definitely out of tune by now.  Feliks joined in without realizing, half lifting Toris onto the bed, half falling himself.  He could feel the softness of the bed lulling him asleep already. “Goodnight Natalka,” he said, and closed his eyes.

\--

“Fełek?  Fełek?” Feliks groaned at the sound of Toris’s voice, like an icepick to the brain.  He turned over, trying to cover his face with the blankets and hide from the sound of birds chirping.

Toris tsked and lied down next to him, sounding a little worse for wear himself, “You look like your face is going to melt off.  I told you not to drink too much.”

In response, Feliks moaned and tried to wish himself into another plane of existence.  Why did he always have to be right? “So you did, Toris.”


End file.
